Disclaimer: I own no part of the Discworld. It belongs to Terry Pratchett and perhaps to the Great A'tuin.

Timeframe: The story takes place after the events in Pyramids.

Stealing Time

By

Runt Thunderbelch

"So tell me," said the Arch-Priest as his overly mascaraed eyes gazed at steadily at Hupba. "Why do you wish to become a priestess of the goddess Phphsst?"

"Well, Phphsst is said to be the most beautiful of all the goddesses, isn't she? She is the embodiment of grace and elegance, of style and culture. If I am found worthy, I long to follow in her paw prints."

Behind the Arch-Priest, loomed a cat-shaped black onyx statue of the goddess. It stood seven feet high but only six inches across. Gold glittered on its feline eyelids.

"Hmmmm," noted the Arch-Priest as he scribbled something on his roll of papyrus with an ostrich-feather stylus. "Have you had any experience appearing before throngs of people while wearing next to no clothing?"

"Oh, of course," replied Hupba. "For the last four years, I've been a dancing girl in the Royal Palace." She held up the bangles on her arm as proof.

"And the reason you left that position?" As he wrote, the reflection of sunlight glinted off the Arch-Priest's shaven head. He absent-mindedly stroked the sleek, black cat which reclined on his lap among the folds of his golden robes.

"Well, we have a lady Pharaoh now. A lady Pharaoh has no great need of dancing girls, and so she has replaced us all with muscular young men in tight black pants and scarlet bow ties."

"Mhmhmhm." The Arch-Priest made another notation.

BAMMM! BAROOOOOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMMM! WHAMMM! BOOOOOOM! The ostrich-feather stylus stopped writing as the thunder roared. Lightning was flashing between the capstones of the giant pyramids and the cloud-darkened skies. No rain ever fell, no not here in Djelibeybi. The valley of the Djel River had more dry lightning than you could shake a stick at.

"Stand up, please," he said once the cacophony echoed away.

"Stand?"

"Mmm-humm."

Hupba stood.

The Arch-Priest made a little revolving gesture with his finger, and so she slowly turned around while he gazed hungrily at her.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Oh, it is not I whom you must please. It is the goddess." He turned slightly so he could stroke the black onyx statue behind him. "You must do everything she wishes. Everything."

An acolyte came running in. "Your Holiness! Come quickly! There is a fire! In the Holy Treasury!"

"What!" The Arch-Priest leaped to his feet, dumping the black cat on the floor. The two men raced outside.

Hupba gazed after them. Was her job interview over? She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again.

"So tell me, child," said a female voice behind her.

Hupba jumped. She spun around to find the onyx statue gazing coolly down at her. Hupba immediately prostrated herself on the flagstone floor.

The Arch-Priest's lap cat at first hissed, but then realized just what it was hissing at and fled for all of its nine lives.

"Why do you really want to become one of my priestesses?"

"As I told the Arch-Priest, your Greatness," stammered Hupba. "I wish to follow in your paw prints."

"Nonsense. It's not wise to tell falsehoods to a goddess. What is your real reason?"

Hupba willed herself to cease trembling. "Because I need a job. And because I'm good working with only a few wisps of clothing on."

"I see," replied Phphsst. "But why here in Djelibeybi? Nothing ever happens here." The goddess descended from her pedestal and began pacing back and forth. "This must be the most boring nation on the Discworld. Time passes at a caterpillar's pace."

Hupba gathered enough courage to raise her eyes. "This land is all I know."

"That's just the trouble, child. You know nothing of the outside world. All you know is this boring place." She pointed her nose at the pyramids across the wide and majestic river. "It's their fault, you know. 'Oh, pyramids are great. Razor blades don't dull. Fruit stay fresh. The corpses of our pharaohs don't rot.' Bah, it's because inside those cursed things, time stops. And even around them, time slows down. We wade through history as if we were wading through syrup. What should be our passage of time is hurled away in lightning bolts up into the clouds and blown away to distant land that need it. It is to those lands you should go, child."

"What lands?"

Oh there are many. The city of Ankh-Morpork, for example. There's never enough time in a city. I'll bet our time is sucked down there and drives the city along at a dizzying pace. If I were young, and beautiful . . . and human, that's where I'd go."

"Why don't you go anyway?" asked Hupba. "You have legs. You can walk. Why not go there?"

"Me? No," replied Phphsst. "My Arch-Priest may not believe in me, but he excels at getting me prayers. And to a goddess, prayers are like catnip."

"But what would I do there? Do they have work for a girl whose only talent is not wearing clothes?"

"You want my advice?"

"Oh yes, please."

The goddess leaned in closer and whispered, "Become a cat burglar."

Ⱦ

For untold centuries, the Book had remained chained securely to one of the wrought-iron bookshelves deep within the darkest part of the Unseen University Library. Every wizard who had known of its existence had long since passed on, returning to ancient dust. So for centuries, the Book had remained undisturbed on its bookshelf, gnawing, gnawing, gnawing.

Then one day, the saliva-rusted, and chewed-upon chains fell away. The Book was amazed. The Book was free. After a few moments of stunned silence, it began to rock back and forth until it fell from its shelf. It landed PLOP on the floor of the library, causing a startled rat to jump backwards.

When nothing more happened, the rodent came slowly forward, sniffy suspiciously. Its tiny brain could tell the object which had fallen wasn't alive, and thus it posed no danger to the rat. Closer and closer, sniff sniff sniff.

SNAP!

The rat jumped backwards again but this time bumped into a skeletal rodent, wearing a hooded cloak and standing on its hind legs. In one of its forepaws was a tiny sickle.

"Squeak, squeak?"

"SQUEAK, SQUEAK," replied to ominous little figure.

It was then that the little rat saw his own body lying on the floor, headless. "Squeak!" It glared at the Book and ran at it with its razor-sharp incisors opening wide to rip out a chunk. But the attack was like trying to bite smoke.

"SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK," explained the Death of Rats.

"Squeak," said the rat spirit sadly. Then it and the Death of Rats faded away.

Back in the library, the Book licked at the spilled blood. After centuries of waiting, it had again tasted blood. And it was good.